


Catch Me a Catch

by der_tanzer



Series: Accidents of Fate [2]
Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-06
Updated: 2010-12-06
Packaged: 2017-10-13 13:18:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/137812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murray’s managed to go two weeks without finding out exactly what happened when they lost the blue Jimmy, and moreover, he doesn’t really care.  But a surprise visitor brings surprising information, and suddenly everyone wants to know the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catch Me a Catch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seraphina_snape](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphina_snape/gifts).



> Follow up to _What Happened to the Blue Jimmy_. (Yes, I know that was supposed to be gen, but it went all slashy on me in this one. Presumably no one will mind.)

Murray was sitting in a wheelchair by the window, waiting for his physical therapist and wondering if the doctor would come before or after his torturous visit to the rehab wing. It had been two weeks since the catastrophic accident that cost Cody his Jimmy and temporarily robbed Murray of the ability to walk. But he was getting better, growing stronger day by day, and Cody had already bought a new truck against the promise of a decent insurance settlement. He might be stuck in a wheelchair for another two weeks, and he might be spending all of that time in the hospital, but Murray didn’t feel unlucky. From what little Nick had told him about the wreck, he felt like the most fortunate man in all of King Harbor.

Nick and Cody returned from lunch ahead of the therapist, more good luck, and brought a stranger with them. Though he never tired of his friends’ company, Murray liked new people and greeted the stranger with a cheerful grin.

“You look a lot better than you did the last time I saw you,” the stranger remarked, clearly teasing.

“Thank you,” Murray said brightly, offering his hand. The stranger didn’t squeeze hard, and was careful not to touch the back of it, where an unattached IV port remained. “But I’m afraid I don’t remember when we met.”

“You wouldn’t. My name’s Jack and I’m with the King Harbor Fire Department. I helped pull you out of that wreck.”

“Oh. Oh, _thank_ you.” He was just letting go of Jack’s hand as he finished speaking, and his grip tightened in sudden enthusiasm. “I don’t know much about what happened that day, but I believe I—I owe you—well—my life. Thank you.”

“I was just doing my job, Dr. Bozinsky. The one—”

“No, call me Murray, please. Wow, I just don’t know how to thank you enough.”

“Like I said, I was just doing my job. The one who really went beyond the call of duty was your friend, Quinlan.”

“What?” Nick and Cody asked in unison. Murray, for a wonder, was speechless.

After a rather awkward pause, he managed to ask, “Who?”

“Quinlan, right? Your cop friend. He was the one inside the car with you.” Three pairs of wide eyes stared at Jack until he flushed and pulled his hand out of Murray’s tense grip.

“Lieutenant Quinlan?” Murray repeated. “He was there?”

“Yeah, he was supposed to be running the scene. He didn’t tell you? No, I guess he didn’t. Mind if I have a seat?” He pulled up a chair close to Murray and went on. “It was a mess. We had eleven other injuries besides you three, and one DOA—units were responding from all over but we still didn’t have the manpower to deal with it. It was just me and a truckman taking care of you and we couldn’t have done it.”

“What did Quinlan do, exactly?” Nick asked. He’d been on his feet when they took him away and knowing Quinlan had been there when he wasn’t made him feel even worse.

“Initially,” Jack said, still talking to Murray, “we put him in the car just to hold the turnout over your head while we busted out the windshield and cut off the roof.”

“Turnout?” Murray repeated. He always got hung up on details when he didn’t quite understand what was happening.

“The fireman’s coat,” Cody whispered.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, so he was supposed to hold the coat and keep the glass and sparks off you. But I had to help the truckman with the equipment, so Quinlan did most of my job, too. He kept the oxygen on you, ran your IVs, held you down when you started to panic. The way he was holding your hand, I thought he was your best friend.”

“Ted Quinlan?” Murray repeated, his eyes wide and baffled.

“He didn’t tell you any of this?”

“I haven’t seen him. I don’t remember the accident, or most of the next day, either. But he’s never—I mean—if we’re friends, this is the first I’m hearing of it.”

“He came in that night,” Nick said suddenly. “You were sleeping, Boz, but he came in the night of the accident and it was kind of weird. He said he was checking up on us, but what he really did was stand over your bed and _look_ at you.”

“He did?”

“You woke up and talked to him for a minute. I don’t remember what all was said, something about the wreck, and you said you didn’t remember it. Then he called us pea-brains and left. Cody and I haven’t seen him since.”

“I was awake?”

“Sort of,” Nick shrugged. “You know how it is after surgery. A lot of stuff gets said that people don’t remember. I guess if he put that much work into saving your life, he wanted to make sure it took.”

“Huh. That’s so weird, guys. Isn’t it? Quinlan holding my hand? It seems like I’d remember that just because it’s so— _weird_.”

“You were pretty beat up,” Cody said quietly. “I know it’s a little disorienting, but I’m glad you don’t remember it. It’s bad enough going through the rehab without having to remember the accident.”

“Yes, I suppose. But Quinlan being my friend—that’d be worth some pain to remember. I—I should thank him, too.”

“I would,” Jack agreed with a hearty laugh. “But, hey, I can’t stay. I just ran into your friends in the cafeteria and wanted to see how you were doing. I’m supposed to be on duty. It’s good to see you out of bed and, you know, awake.”

“Thanks. I’m practicing walking now—my physical therapist is running late, in fact—but I’ll be okay soon. And thank you, really, for all your help. If there’s anyone else I should thank, like the truckman, please pass it on. Or bring me his name and I’ll send a card.”

“I’ll let him know. But really, it’s just our job. It’s just nice to see such a good outcome from such a huge—well, I’m just glad you made it. You take care, Murray. I’ll be watching for you in the magazines.”

“Thank you,” he said again. “Really.”

Jack smiled as he rose, and then was gone. Murray tried to meet his friends’ eyes and found them too far away. Nick turned his chair to face them and sat back down. Everyone was thinking the same thing, but it was left to Murray to say it first.

“Lieutenant Quinlan,” he murmured. “That’s so _weird_. I wonder why…”

“Why what?” Nick asked gently.

“Why would he do it? He doesn’t care about me. If you asked me this morning, I’d have said he genuinely didn’t care if I lived or died. And now this guy says he saved my life? That’s not his job, is it?”

“I don’t know, buddy. Maybe it is.”

“But that doesn’t explain why he was here that night,” Nick reminded them. “Remember when Murray asked him if he’d been there at the scene? That look on his face? For a second, I would’ve sworn he was disappointed.”

“Yeah, I noticed that, too. So why hasn’t he been back?”

“Because he _was_ disappointed. Whatever he wanted, he knew he couldn’t get it from Murray if he didn’t know what happened,” Nick said, as if it was perfectly obvious. After a moment, they both nodded. Then Murray took a deep breath, swallowed hard, and spoke in a voice that wasn’t quite steady.

“Did I really almost die, guys?” For two weeks, they’d been telling him he was fine, that the accident was bad, but he was okay and would soon be better, and he'd believed them with his usual willing good-humor. Now they exchanged a look that he read plainly, asking each other if they should tell him, and in it he found his answer. “Guys…”

“Murray, don’t,” Nick said very gently, as if his words were stones that could shatter his friend if dropped on him too carelessly.

“Don’t what, Nick? What don’t I remember?”

Nick turned appealing eyes on Cody and he stepped in with a pained sigh.

“We weren’t there, buddy. I don’t remember it, either, and Nick was with me.”

“I tried to stay,” Nick said, ashamed of how defensive it came out. But he felt defensive. “I knew you were hurt worse than Cody and I wanted to stay, but my shoulder was messed up and they—they said I’d just be in the way. I wanted to be there for you, but from what I heard later, they were right. I _would_ have been in the way and you might have died because of it.”

“How did he know you?” Murray asked. “When you ran into him today, did he remember you?”

“He was with the guys who brought me and Cody in. They came over to say hi, and when he found out we were visiting you, he wanted to see for himself how you were doing,” Cody supplied.

“I guess that should have been my first clue,” he whispered. “They don’t do that very often, do they? Visit the people they save.”

“I don’t think so,” Nick agreed. “Look, Murray, we didn’t tell you because it just didn’t seem necessary. You’re getting better, and faster than the doctors expected. We didn’t want to say anything that would upset you, or depress you, and make it worse. You really are okay.”

Murray looked down at himself, studying the wheelchair, the braces on his legs, the thin hospital gown that covered his taped and scarred body. He’d been feeling okay before, but now he just wanted to go to bed.

“Hey, Boz,” Cody whispered, touching his face lightly, making him look at them again. “We’re sorry, okay? But you’re all right now and that’s what matters, right?”

“Yeah, I know. But it also matters that I’d be _dead_ right now if it wasn’t for Ted Quinlan and I—I…”

“You what? C’mon, babe, spit it out.”

“I have to thank him. I don’t remember anything, Cody. If I was conscious at all in the car—I could have said anything to him. I don’t remember him coming here, either, but you said that whatever I said then disappointed him. I can’t just leave it like that.”

“Is that all?” Nick said, nearly laughing with relief. “Murray, that’s no problem. We can get him over here today if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Would you?” he asked, his eyes brightening like the sun breaking through clouds.

“Sure, we will. Right, Cody?”

“Sure, no problem. Anything you want, buddy.”

“Gee, thanks, guys. For understanding and everything. This hasn’t exactly been easy, and I’ve been trying so hard not to be a huge pain about it, but I think I need this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Nick said, smiling confidently. And what did Murray have to worry about, besides his PT and broken ribs? Nick was the one who had just promised to call up Lieutenant Quinlan and get him to visit Murray in the hospital. He wondered if offering him money could be construed as bribing a police officer, even though it wasn’t official business.

Before he had a chance to get too deeply into his private paranoia, the door opened again and Murray’s therapist breezed in. Janine was a compactly built woman with more muscle than was readily apparent, and enough exuberance for three people her size. She and Murray were a perfect match in spite of her indifference toward computers. She liked people and had a strange sense of humor, and that was enough to make him look forward to his therapy in spite of the pain.

“Hey, Murray-my-pet. You all ready to go for a walk? How come you’re not dressed yet?”

“I had a surprise visitor,” he said, smiling in spite of himself. He liked being her pet, too. It never failed to cheer him up. “Sorry. But I _am_ ready. Other than that, I mean.”

“All right, let’s get your workout clothes, then. Come on boys, time’s a’wastin’. Who’s helping today? Nick, it’s your turn, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but maybe Cody had better—my shoulder’s not feeling too good today.”

“And my ribs are?” Cody retorted.

“How would I know? They’re _your_ ribs.”

“Listen to them,” Janine said, shaking her head. “Two husbands means _nothing_ gets done, doesn’t it? I bet they’re both great at watching sports on TV.”

“You have no idea,” Murray grinned.

“Okay, I’ll do the heavy lifting. That’s what girls are for, right? Nick, find his pants for me, would you?”

There was a little dresser by the door and Nick got Murray’s baggy shorts from the second drawer. He and Cody had bought them especially for this purpose, and though Murray wouldn’t have worn them at home, they were perfect for physical therapy. Soft and stretchy, not at all tight, and most of all, big enough to go on over his braces. The t-shirts, on the other hand, were all old ones brought from home so he could have something familiar in the midst of all this painful strangeness, and Nick grabbed the light blue one that he thought was Murray’s favorite.

Janine crouched down, lifted Murray’s feet from the wheelchair footrests, and slipped them into his shorts in the same motion. Then she flipped up the pedals, swung the leg supports back, and set his feet carefully on the floor.

“You ready, darling one?” she asked as she straightened up. Murray nodded and she lifted him easily, her arms around his waist, well below his broken ribs. Nick moved at the same time, pulling his shorts up under his gown. Janine stopped just shy of upright so the joints of his braces wouldn’t lock and then set him back down. That was the hard part. The easy part was taking off his gown and threading his arms into the short sleeves of his shirt before pulling it down over his head. She crouched again and put his feet back on the pedals, holding his gaze all the time with an easy smile.

“You two want to come?” she asked as she stood and moved around behind his chair. “He’s made a lot of progress.”

“Yeah, we’ll be down in a minute,” Nick said.

“All right, but don’t take too long. He’s walking pretty good now, you know. He might get away from me.”

“I’d never leave you, Janine,” Murray said with a grin.

“Aw, that’s why you’re my favorite. Now let’s go see if there’s anyone in the hall we can race.”

Nick crossed the room and opened the door for them, and the last thing he heard was Murray’s echoing laughter as she sped him away.

“So what are we waiting here for?” Cody asked. “I want to see how he’s doing.”

“Yeah, so do I,” Nick said with a shrug. “But I said I’d call Quinlan. Maybe he wants to come by and see his hard work pay off.”

“You think he will?”

“I think there’s a good chance. Maybe there’s something going on there that we don’t know about. That _Murray_ doesn’t know about. And maybe he should, you know? Besides, we just promised to ask him over so Murray can thank him. Worst case scenario, that’s all this was.” He was already picking up the bedside phone and Cody didn’t know how to disagree.

“All right, but if he doesn’t come, we don’t say anything about it to Murray. He’s confused enough right now without adding that.”

Nick nodded, already saying hello to whoever answered the phone and asking for Lieutenant Quinlan. Then his face fell, and the next thing he said was that he wanted to leave a message. He hung up looking disappointed and told Cody they may as well go.

“He wasn’t there?”

“Out for lunch. Well, it’s no big deal. Let’s go see how the Boz is doing. I sure hope he gets those braces off soon. They make his legs look even skinnier than they already are. It’s depressing.”

“I know.” Cody slipped his arm around Nick’s waist and kissed his neck softly. “It won’t be too much longer, though. We’ll get him home in a couple weeks and he’ll be fine.”

“Well, not fine. His ribs are gonna take another month. Not like yours,” he added, laughing.

“Hey, mine are cracked.”

“Yeah, _cracked_. That isn’t the same as poking you in the lung. Thank God.”

“Amen. Now let’s go watch him try to sit up with ninety pounds of enthusiasm holding his shoulders.”

“Talk about depressing,” Nick agreed. But it was better to be there with Murray than to stand here in his empty room and imagine it.

***

Murray lay on a padded table a foot longer than he was and four times as wide, Janine kneeling beside him doing range of motion exercises to keep his hip joints limber. His long legs, locked in their padded plastic braces with metal hinges at the knees, were lifted one at a time and pulled straight up, which he had a tremendous range for, then maneuvered gently from side to side. Later, when his fractured kneecaps and tibias had healed some, the stretching would get more aggressive. But for now, it was enough to keep his hips moving in anticipation of that day.

He was biting his lips and sweating lightly when she finally stopped and offered him a drink of water.

“Is there more? Because that was pretty hard, Nee. I think I deserve a break.”

“You deserve to be a fully functioning, independently ambulatory individual, my little doctor-pet. And you know what that means.”

“I think it means I’d better take the water,” he sighed, trying to smile.

“I do, too. Nick, would you get him a cup from the cooler?”

He brought it and Janine helped Murray sit up, lightly supporting him with a hand behind his neck. It still hurt his chest too much to sit up entirely on his own, but he was doing most of the work and the water was a sweet reward. She was easing him down on his back again when the door swung open, unnoticed by patient and therapist alike. But Cody took note of the new arrival and Nick joined them as soon as he was sure Murray was okay.

“You made it,” he whispered. Quinlan’s face twitched as if he wanted to say something nasty but couldn’t quite get it out while looking at the man on the table.

“Dispatcher said you called when I was getting off lunch. She thought it might be official business. Maybe have something to do with that wreck. It doesn’t though, does it?”

“Not anything more than what you see,” Cody said.

“Then what am I doing here?” he snarled back, but quietly, as if he already knew.

“Murray had a visitor today. A paramedic named Jack. Nice guy, really. And humble. He didn’t want any thanks for saving Murray’s life. Seemed to think you did all the hard work on that one.”

“So that got us thinking about how you ‘just dropped by’ that night,” Nick continued, “and we figured it was to see how successful your efforts were. And, that being the case, it seemed like you’d want to see how he was coming along.”

“Looks to me like he ain’t ‘coming along’ for shit,” Quinlan said, choosing not to comment on the rest.

“Should have seen him a week ago,” Cody said. Then, “Oh, I hate this part.”

He turned away, studying the wall as if it fascinated him, but Quinlan couldn’t not look. Janine had unlocked the hinges on Murray’s braces and bent his right knee to the approved ninety degrees. Then, cajoling him all along to resist, she gently pushed it toward his chest to see how far he could bend his hip. Murray’s face was flushed with pain and effort, sweat beading on his forehead and tears welling in his eyes, the tendons standing out in his neck and arms as she inexorably pressed on. How much he resisted, only Janine knew, but to the observers it looked like she won it with ease.

When she put his bare foot back down on the table, his knee was bent at a less severe angle and they could see him panting with relief. Then she slid off the table, walked around it, and began again with the other leg.

“Jesus,” Quinlan muttered. “I thought his legs were broken. How can she expect him to do all this so soon?”

“Stress fractures,” Nick said a wisely, as if he hadn’t asked the same question, and gotten a much more detailed answer, last week. “They put in plates and he won’t be able to walk on his own for a while, but he needs to stay limber.”

“Yeah,” he said, his mouth suddenly dry. _Limber. Jesus._ Apparently Murray’s left leg was less limber than his right, because he cried out suddenly and pounded the padded table with his fist. Janine murmured something but didn’t let go, and suddenly Quinlan wanted to hurt her. Instead, he swaggered over to the table and put himself directly in Murray’s line of sight. “Hey, Bozinsky. That the best you can do? How’d you make it into the Army, anyway?”

“By not being stupid enough to volunteer for combat,” he said rudely, hoping his old nemesis would go away before witnessing any more of this. But Quinlan just smiled and leaned his hip against the table’s edge.

“Hurts doesn’t it? But you can take it. I seen you take worse.”

“They—that guy, Jack—he told me you were there. In the car. He said you saved my life.”

“I was just doing what I was told.”

Janine reached the desired angle while Murray was distracted and then put his foot down beside the other. He groaned softly at the sudden absence of pressure, and then blushed at his own weakness. Janine threw him a towel, but he wasn’t quick enough to catch it and it landed on the table beside his left elbow. Quinlan saw how much it cost him to try to reach it and picked it up for him, then gently wiped the sweat from his face and neck.

“I went through something like this ten-twelve years ago, you know,” he said in a strangely casual tone.

“You—you did?”

“Got my knee screwed up in the war. And I’ll tell you something, those VA rehab places ain’t nearly as nice as this. Had a drill sergeant for a therapist, too. For real, not like people joke about.”

Murray laughed weakly, curling his arms protectively over his chest.

“I know, I’m very lucky. Janine’s really nice, when she isn’t making me cry.”

“Don’t be such a baby.”

Murray sneered faintly but said nothing.

“All right, you two, that’s enough flirting,” Janine said briskly. “Murray, you need to get on your feet for me. Show your friend what you can do.”

He flicked his eyes back at Quinlan, expecting anger, and was surprised to see him blushing and staring at the floor.

“My friend?” he whispered boldly.

“Shut up,” Quinlan muttered.

“You—what’s your name?” she called, trying not to laugh at their discomfort.

He hesitated a bare second and then said, “Ted. Ted Quinlan.”

“All right, Ted, help us out. I’m going to swing him around this way—clockwise—and I want you to put your hand under his neck and lift just a little while we turn, okay? And be sure you keep up, because this guy? Can scream like a girl.”

“Figures,” he muttered, trying to save face. That time Murray stuck his tongue out at him and suddenly the whole truth hit Quinlan like a speeding train, mowing him down and leaving him unable to even question it.

“Ted? You still with us, or do I need to get a nurse?”

“I’m fine. What are we waiting for?” He slipped his hand behind Murray’s neck and struggled to keep it steady while he lifted and followed the slow swivel. But Murray felt him trembling and wondered what was wrong.

“Okay, that’s good,” Janine said, letting go of his thighs and straightening his legs a little more. “Ted, bring him on up for me.” This time only she saw his helpless flush as he sat Murray upright. But she decided not to comment on it now that she was sure there was a line to be crossed. “How’re you feeling, Boz? About ready to try standing?”

“Just give me one minute, okay? I’m awfully tired.”

“Like a long day at work, isn’t it?” she asked, the first really sympathetic thing she’d said so far.

“Not for me. I can go whole days without leaving my desk.”

“Well, after this you’ll be ready to run marathons.”

He chuckled weakly, still protective of his ribs, and began sliding toward the edge of the table. She caught him with her hands under his knees and straightened them carefully, locking the hinges before standing him on his feet. He held onto the table with both hands until she was beside him, her arm around his waist, and then he shifted one hand to her shoulder. The parallel bars were two steps away and he clung to her until he was safely between them, then gripped the bars with white-knuckled ferocity.

“That’s good, Murray, but you have to let go sometime.”

“No, I don’t,” he panted, trying to control his breathing for the sake of his ribs.

“Yes, you do,” Quinlan said, coming over to stand by the bars. “The longer you wait, the weaker you’ll get and the harder it’ll be.”

“What if I fall? That’ll hurt, _Ted_. I don’t think I can stand that much pain right now.”

“We won’t let you fall,” Janine said confidently. “Ted, help us out again. Just get behind him and put your hands on his hips. He’s got nice bony ones so you can get a good grip.”

“That’s okay,” Murray said quickly. “I can do this.”

“No, it’s all right. Don’t want you falling and breaking something else,” Quinlan said with an audible smirk. He stepped between the bars and wrapped his hands around Murray’s sharp hipbones while Janine ducked under in front and placed her hands just above his, on the soft, ticklish spots just below Murray’s ribcage.

“There you go, Doc. All safe and sound. Now let’s take a step, okay? Right foot first—just one little step. We did it yesterday, didn’t we?”

“Yesterday I didn’t feel so weak.” But he managed that one little step, and then another when he felt how securely they held him. Still, he didn’t let go of the bars. His hands slid a couple of inches with each step, his arms as stiff and straight as he could make them to accommodate knees that didn’t bend.

“How much of this has he gotta do?” Quinlan asked.

“Well, I bet five bucks that he could get to the end,” Janine said. “Marjorie put down ten that he wouldn’t get past halfway.”

“You didn’t even match her?” Murray panted, not too exhausted to be offended, and Quinlan felt his body tense with effort.

“Couldn’t afford to after I bought my lunch. But you’re past halfway now, so Marjorie can suck it.”

Murray started to laugh and then his ribs reminded him not to. A few more steps and they were almost to the end, Murray’s confidence growing with every inch he covered.

“Wow, looks like I’m going to collect,” she said, giving Murray a wink. For some reason that made him laugh when nothing else had, and laughing, he stumbled for the first time. Unable to bend his knees, he bent at the waist instead, falling forward as his sweat-slicked hands shot out from under him. Nick and Cody were already running toward them when Janine, who had had this happen once or twice before, stepped up into him and pushed him upright with her body. For a split second it seemed to have worked, but Murray couldn’t help flinching away from the contact with his broken ribs. He over balanced and topped backward instead, landing solidly against Quinlan’s chest with a sharp cry of pain. Instantly, the strong hands left his hips and clasped around his waist, just low enough to miss the already offended ribs.

“Oh, God,” Murray sighed, letting his head fall back on Quinlan’s shoulder.

“Scared, were you?” he asked, reminding Murray with a jolt who was holding him.

“I still am,” he whispered. “Don’t drop me.”

“I ain’t gonna drop you,” Quinlan said, unreasonably hurt by Murray’s fear. But Murray didn’t know everything that was going on today.

“Jeez Louise in a handbag,” Janine gasped. “I’m so sorry, Murray. Are you okay?”

“Yes. Yes, I think so,” he nodded, but his breathing was still fast. Then he realized he could feel Ted’s heart pounding against his back. His own heart leapt into his throat, and then he felt a sudden sense of calm descend over him. Quinlan was scared, too, and somehow that made Murray feel safer. Exactly _why_ Ted was scared was a matter to be considered later, when he would have more time to ponder what criteria this cruel man used to decided between the pride of responsibility, and the slapstick humor of seeing Murray fall on his ass, which he was well known to enjoy.

“Can you stand there for a second while I get your chair?”

“No,” he said quickly, raising his head. “Wait, yes. I mean, yes, I can stand. I want to finish.”

“Murray, I don’t need the ten bucks that bad,” she said, beginning to recover herself.

“Good, but I want to finish. I can do it.”

“Hey, Murray,” Nick said, a little too forcefully. He was scared, too. “Maybe you ought to give yourself a break. You’re shaking, man. That can’t be safe.”

“He can do it,” Quinlan said flatly. He leaned into Murray just as Janine had done and steadied him with his body while Murray dried his hands on the legs of his shorts and got a firm grip on the rails. Then Quinlan shifted his hold back to Murray’s hips and they walked to the end of the bars together.

Janine had the chair ready and everyone except Murray breathed a sigh of relief when he was safely in it once again. Murray was tired but strangely exhilarated, and thought he could walk a little more if they’d let him. He almost brought it up, but one look at Nick and Cody’s faces changed his mind. Then Janine was kneeling down to unlock his braces and put his feet up on the footrests.

“I really am sorry about that,” she said again. “I completely forgot your gloves, or you would have been able to hold on.”

“It’s okay, Nee. I forgot, too. Really, don’t worry about it. I was scared for a second, but I’m okay now. And I did it! I walked all the way, the whole ten feet! Yesterday I only managed seven feet, so that’s pretty good, right? And everyone was here to see it.” He flashed his cheerful, geeky grin at Nick and Cody, and even Quinlan, who responded with a little smirk when the others chose encouraging smiles.

“You were great, buddy,” Cody said brightly.

“Absolutely,” Nick agreed. “We thought it would be another couple days before you made it all the way. That was outstanding.”

Quinlan just leaned against the rail and looked at him, arms crossed over his chest, his face carefully neutral to conceal what he was really thinking: that he needed to get the kid alone before he lost his nerve.

“Does this mean I can go back to my room now? I need a shower and a nap.”

“You bet,” Janine said, more relieved than she would admit at handing him off. “You guys want to take him back? A nurse will help him get cleaned up and tuck him into bed.”

“Sure, no problem,” Nick grinned, taking over control of the chair. “You coming, Ted?”

“I’m still on duty,” he dissembled mildly.

“You’ve got your radio,” Cody pointed out. “They can find you if they need to.”

So Quinlan shrugged and followed them back to Murray’s room where a nurse appeared as if by magic. Nick did him a favor by stopping outside the door and telling Murray that they had to go. He tipped an ironic grin at Quinlan and said that he and Cody had a case to work, even if some other people didn’t, and they’d be back in the evening to say goodnight. Murray, sore and tired and wrung out by the emotional rollercoaster, put on a stoic face that did nothing to hide the pleading in his eyes.

“You’ll be okay, won’t you?” Nick said with carefully calculated heartlessness.

“Yeah, I—I’ll be fine. I was hoping maybe we could talk for a while, but we can do that later. Yes,” he added with a faltering smile, “it’ll keep.”

“Sure it will. We’ll see you tonight, Boz.” Nick patted him lightly on the shoulder and walked away, beckoning Cody with a jerk of his head to follow. But Cody had slightly less confidence in what was probably a hastily thought out plan with an unknowable outcome.

He leaned down and whispered, “We’ll be back for supper at six, okay? And if you need anything before then, just call. If you have to leave a message, we’ll come as soon as we get it.”

“Sure, Cody. Thanks. It’s okay, though, really. You have work to do. Just take it easy. Don’t—don’t let Nick overdo it with that shoulder.”

“I won’t. You have a good nap, buddy. We’re really proud of you.” He couldn’t help ruffling Murray’s sweat-damp hair with one hand, wishing he didn’t have to go. But Nick was halfway to the elevator now and watching impatiently. Reluctantly, Cody pulled himself away, gave Quinlan a quick but indefinite warning glance, and went after his partner.

***

Catching up, Cody grabbed Nick’s elbow and dragged him around a corner out Murray’s sight.

“What’s going on here? Are we playing matchmaker now?”

“Kind of, yeah. Why not? Murray’s been down in the dumps ever since he broke it off with that dock boy, Kevin. And you can’t tell me ol’ Ted doesn’t like him. You saw the same things today that I did.”

“But we just left them alone together and we don’t know what’s going to happen. Maybe we read it all wrong and they don’t really _like_ each other. You’re playing with fire, Nick, and you’re not the one who’s going to get burned.”

“Look, the worst thing that can happen is Quinlan doesn’t take the bait. Maybe he’s not into Murray, I don’t know, but I think he is. If he isn’t, Murray’ll call us in an hour and we’ll come back, no harm done.”

“Except we really hurt his feelings just now,” Cody reminded him.

“If Quinlan doesn’t get him over it, we will. Now let’s go or we won’t be there if he calls.”

Cody wasn’t convinced, but he couldn’t go back now. And maybe Nick was right. Maybe there was more to Ted Quinlan than just a badge and the will to abuse it.

***

“You look ready to hop back into bed,” the nurse said brightly, pulling him backward into his room. “Did you have a good session?”

“I think so,” he sighed, looking to Quinlan to disagree.

“He did great. He’s just tired,” was Ted’s surprising contribution.

“Everyone’s tired after PT. I don’t know how they stand it down there. I couldn’t sleep nights if I had to make my patients cry all day, every day.”

“Can I have a shower today?” Murray asked, suddenly not in the mood to relive his most recent experience.

“Not today, hon. The doctor doesn’t want your braces off unless you’re lying down. Maybe next week.”

Murray nodded, knowing he was too tired for that kind of exertion anyway, but unwilling to acknowledge it. After two weeks without a proper shower, he didn’t feel very much like a man with rights. Possibly the only right he had left was the right to secrets, so he kept the worst of his pain and fears to himself.

“I’ll just go get Rob to help out and we’ll have you in bed in a jiffy,” she went on, already turning toward the door. But Quinlan was looking at Murray and saw how he stiffened, biting his lower lip as if holding back something important.

“Wait a second,” he said with casual authority. “Help out with what?”

“Why, Murray, of course. We’re not supposed to stand and pivot immediately after PT and I can’t lift him, can I? Rob’s the muscle on the floor.”

Looking at Murray’s pinched and pale face, Quinlan guessed that Rob’s muscle probably wasn’t as controlled as some of the patients would like and immediately made yet another risky decision. Maybe he was taking advantage of the kid’s helplessness, and maybe that made him a terrible person, but he suspected that if he was careful, he wouldn’t be as terrible as what Murray feared.

“I’ll do it,” he said with that same casual authority, the tone of a cop who expected no arguments and wouldn’t stand for any. Murray’s expression changed to fear of a different kind, but it was notable that he didn’t protest.

“I really need to get Rob,” she insisted. “We aren’t supposed to—for insurance reasons…”

But Quinlan hadn’t been waiting for a response. He scooped Murray’s slight frame out of the wheelchair, clasping his hands around the bony hips and holding him up high to keep the stress off his knees. Murray flailed briefly and then grabbed him around the neck, as terrified of falling now as he had been while walking the bars. The nurse, equally terrified of prolonging the risk of a lawsuit, shoved the chair out of the way and dropped the bedrail in record time so all Quinlan had to do was take three steps and put him down.

This time Murray was a little bit slower to release him, and when their eyes met, he saw a species of tenderness that had never been there before. Or if it had been, he wasn’t awake to see it. Then the nurse, who clearly didn’t know who she was dealing with, was tugging at Quinlan’s arm, telling him to move because she had work to do. He backed away from the bed, already getting angry on Murray’s behalf. The nurse was between them now, pulling his shirt off without regard as to whether he wanted to be undressed in front of visitors. Judging by the doomed look in his wide, soft eyes, Quinlan guessed that he didn’t. He drew the curtain around the bed, pretending not to see the nurse’s surprise, and sat down by the window to wait.

After a few minutes, the nurse stepped around the curtain and went into the bathroom, and Quinlan knew without being told that she’d left Murray lying naked in his bed. It occurred to him that he wouldn’t mind seeing that, but not now. Not like this, when the poor guy didn’t have any choice. It would be much sweeter when ( _if_ , he reminded himself fiercely) it was offered freely. Then the nurse was back with a basin of water and a moment later he heard Murray yelp behind the curtain. The water hadn’t been steaming, so he guessed it was too cold, or perhaps she’d started in too sensitive an area, and his anger grew apace.

She came out again for a new gown, and then once more for clean sheets, and finally, half an hour after Quinlan had drawn the curtain, she pulled it back and left the room. Murray didn’t look any better than he had before, though his hair was a bit drier. His glasses were on the bedside table—one last little indignity, though which of them she most wanted to punish was hard to say. Without his glasses, Murray couldn’t see well enough to know that Quinlan was still there, and so couldn’t be faulted for his pitiful little whimper. He’d been abandoned by his friends, betrayed by his nurse, and had no idea what to make of his old enemy’s behavior. What had started out as a good day had turned into something like the set up to a practical joke and he just wasn’t in the mood.

He whimpered again, feeling entitled to his self-pity, and perfectly free to wallow in it. And then a gruff, teasing voice spoke up, snapping him out of it with a jolt of shame.

“Come on, Bozinsky. It ain’t all _that_ bad, is it?”

“Lieutenant? I thought you were gone. I can’t—I can’t really see.”

“Yeah, that bitch was out to get you, wasn’t she?” he remarked, rising from his seat and going to the bed. “You want your glasses?”

“Please.” Murray held his hand out, blindly seeking, and Quinlan put the glasses on his palm, not letting go until the long fingers had folded securely over them. “Thank you,” he murmured, settling them on his nose and blinking the world into focus.

“That’s better. Now you look more like yourself.”

“Funny,” Murray sighed.

“It wasn’t an insult, kid.”

There was a long silence as the two of them regarded each other with a mixture of suspicion and hopeful friendliness.

“Why’d you come here today?” Murray asked, when the weight of the silence became too much to bear.

“I wanted to see how you were doing,” he said, pulling his chair over to the bed so Murray wouldn’t have to look up at him.

“Today? I’ve been here for two weeks.”

“I came by the first day. Even talked to you for a minute, but you kept going to sleep.”

“I had a lot of surgery that day. So why’d you wait so long to come back?”

“Well, I wasn’t planning on it, but Ryder called and said I should. He didn’t say why, so I figured you probably needed something. I’m not sure I was wrong, either.”

“No, I don’t think you were. I did ask him to invite you over so I could thank you for everything you did, but somehow I don’t think that’s what he had in mind when he called.”

“Me either.”

“I really can’t decide if those two are being good friends to me right now or not, Ted. I’m so confused, it makes my head hurt. And this really isn’t the best time.”

“They’re your friends. Trust me on that.”

“But they _left_ ,” Murray said, struggling not to whimper and just barely succeeding.

“That don’t matter. I think I know why they left, and it ain’t got nothing to do with you.”

“Then what _does_ it have to do with?”

“I think maybe they’re playing with me. And maybe that means they’re playing with you a little bit, too, but it ain’t meant to hurt you.”

“Playing? Playing _what_? Lieutenant, I’m really too tired for this.”

“Yeah, their timing ain’t so good. But it’s okay. They’re not here, but it’s okay because you’re not alone.”

“I will be when you leave. Please just tell me what’s going on first.”

“I don’t know for sure, but what I think happened is that guy, Jack, came in here and told you some story about what I did after that car wreck, and that got your buddies thinking that I cared what happened to you.”

“They should know better than that,” Murray said sourly.

“Give me a little credit, kid. It’s not like I wanted you dead.”

“So that’s it? They called you because they thought you cared, and you came to make sure I wasn’t dead?”

“No, you moron. That’s not _it_. If it was, I wouldn’t have stayed five minutes.”

There was another long pause while the two of them regarded each other, Murray wondering just what _it_ was, and Quinlan trying to decide how to tell him.

“I guess,” he said finally, “I always did kind of like you. That’s why came over that first night. To see if you remembered enough of what happened to figure that out. But you didn’t remember anything, and you weren’t all that happy to see me, so I didn’t come back.”

“I’m sorry,” Murray said inanely. “It’s not my fault that I don’t remember, and if I wasn’t happy to see you—well, I don’t know. It’s not like you were ever friendly to me before. I just—I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, I can see how that would be. I probably could have picked a better time, but I thought—there in that car—I thought you were dying, and there wouldn’t _be_ another time. When they told me you were gonna be okay, I figured there’d be time later. After you were home again or something.” Quinlan spoke very quietly, his head bowed, eyes fixed on his hands which were folded on his knees. He was afraid to look up, terrified of what he might see on Murray’s face. Pity, or maybe distaste. That would be bad enough. Laughter would be worse. If he saw laughter, he would get up and walk out the door, and probably not stop walking until he hit LA.

“Lieutenant,” Murray said softly. So softly that he found he could look after all. “It’s okay, Lieutenant. I’m really tired, and still a little confused, but I think it’s okay. I’m glad you’re here, I’m glad you’ve _been_ here today. You were a big help in therapy, and I really appreciate you saving me from Rob. He _is_ the muscle on the floor, but he likes to lord it over us.”

“Does he hurt you? Because if you want me to have a word with him, that wouldn’t be a problem.”

“It’s okay, really. I just like getting a break from him now and then.” He cleared his throat, picking restlessly at the thin blanket that covered him to the waist. “So, are you really on duty, or can you stay for a while?”

“Both,” Quinlan said with a friendly little smirk. “I’m on duty, but I can stay.”

***

When Cody and Nick returned that evening, they found Quinlan stretched out on top of the blankets, one arm encircling Murray’s shoulders, holding him securely while he slept. On the bedside table, Murray’s glasses looked equally at home nestled among Quinlan’s handcuffs, gun, and police radio.

“Well, if that isn’t a match made in heaven,” Nick said with a wicked grin.

“Not with you at the bottom of it,” Quinlan whispered, as Murray slept on, oblivious.


End file.
